Feb 8th, Day of the Hippiecrack

Yesterday was not my day to venture outside my unbearably warm domicile; before going to the Creepermat I managed to slip on a patch of ice and scrape up my right arm/elbow/hand pretty badly, back into a parked car in my dark, icy parking lot 15 minutes later, then twist my ankle carrying the laundry back to my apartment once I returned. Nevertheless, I braved the blustery winds and feet-high piles of snow to make sure my boyfriend had a clean uniform to wear to work today.

I decided to enlist an accomplice on this particular night, which ended up being my cousin Beth. As we pulled into the Creepermat in St. Clairsville, both of us were immediately drawn to the far right side of the building. Now, as with most Creepermats, the front of this one is entirely windows. I'm guessing this is so that the owner, who probably lives across the street, can watch the place to make sure no one....kicks the machines? What else can you really do to a laundromat? Anyway...

Both of our eyes are fixated on the long, hairy buttcrack, obviously male. We looked at each other, laughed, and gathered the laundry. We decided to take over the same side of the Creepermat as the Hippiecrack guy, since he was the most interesting person available. The only other inhabitants were a tall, rotund, rough-looking fellow in an orange trucker hat, plaid flannel shirt, torn up work jeans, and mud-caked boots; a short, round lady with a few unruly kids running circles around their side of the Creepermat, and a young, blond girl whose eyes darted anxiously around the room the entire time she was there.

We got the laundry in, sat down, and glanced over at Hippiecrack guy. He was scraggly, with longish blond hair, a ratty band/concert shirt, and jeans that were hanging way too low...




I wish I'd have been sitting another foot to the right, because I would have had the perfect view to this beautiful sight. How did he NOT feel that breeze? All of his clothes were tumbling around in dryers low to the ground, so every time one of his dryers emitted the high-pitched-yet-still-too-low beep signaling the OK for the safe removal of his garments, we were graced with this hilarious sight, although much more noticeable.

Sadly, this was the only eventful part of last night's Creepermat adventure.